This service is brought to you today by:
led emergency lights /
jacobs ignition /
plastic packaging tubes /
clear tubes /
transfer flow /
bouy key floats /
magnaflow mufflers /
power slider /
Ford Truck Fan / Public Safety Equipment
The Tempest Page: 1
Actus primus, Scena prima.
A tempestuous noise of Thunder and Lightning heard: Enter a
Ship-master,
and a Boteswaine.
Master: Bote-swaine
Botes: Heere Master: What cheere?
Master: Good: Speake to th' Mariners: fall
too't, yarely, or we run our selves a ground,
bestirre, bestirre.
Enter.
Enter Mariners.
Botes: Heigh my hearts, cheerely, cheerely my harts:
yare, yare: Take in the toppe-sale: Tend to th' Masters
whistle: Blow till thou burst thy winde, if roome enough.
Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Ferdinando, Gonzalo, and
others.
Alon: Good Boteswaine have care: where's the Master?
Play the men.
Botes: I pray now keepe below.
Anth: Where is the Master, Boson?
Botes: Do you not heare him? you marre our labour, Keepe your Cabines: you do assist the storme.
Gonz: Nay, good be patient.
Botes. When the Sea is: hence, what cares these roarers for the name of King? to Cabine; silence: trouble vs not.
Gon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboord.
Botes. None that I more loue then my selfe. You are
a Counsellor, if you can command these Elements to silence,
and worke the peace of the present, wee will not
hand a rope more, vse your authoritie: If you cannot,
giue thankes you haue liu'd so long, and make your
selfe readie in your Cabine for the mischance of the
houre, if it so hap. Cheerely good hearts: out of our
way I say.
Enter.
Gon. I haue great comfort from this fellow: methinks
he hath no drowning marke vpon him, his complexion
is perfect Gallowes: stand fast good Fate to his hanging,
make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our
owne doth little aduantage: If he be not borne to bee
hang'd, our case is miserable.
Enter.
Enter Boteswaine
Botes. Downe with the top-Mast: yare, lower, lower,
bring her to Try with Maine-course. A plague -
A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio & Gonzalo.
vpon this howling: they are lowder then the weather,
or our office: yet againe? What do you heere? Shal we
giue ore and drowne, haue you a minde to sinke?
Sebas. A poxe o'your throat, you bawling, blasphemous
|